


Heart-Shaped Clouds

by gay_halforc



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, M/M, Sharing a Bed, childhood best friends, luke's bio daughter!clary, medieval but mine, prince!magnus, theyre both idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_halforc/pseuds/gay_halforc
Summary: "Magnus always loved him. But he could never tell him how much."or, a gay dude was talking w his friend abt malec royalty!au while roadtripping and thus this fic was born





	Heart-Shaped Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> So. I may. Have not written/posted any. Writing. since. I was twelve. and prior to that Ever. and i will Not link the atrocity that is That fic. But. this was a cute ass idea and i went with it and now we are here. not finished (im very new to being an author on ao3 so forgive me for mistakes)
> 
> much love to my friends who encouraged me!!!!!!!!!! ily all so much

Magnus had always loved Alec. He loved Alec when Alec convinced him to sneak out of the palace to explore the city together. He loved Alec when he lied to his father just to go and play with him. He loved Alec when they climbed the tallest trees and overlooked the entire kingdom together, their childish faces overcome with awe as the sky faded to twilight.

Magnus loved Alec when he ignored his duties to sit in the meadow with him and gaze at the heavens above them (really, Magnus was gazing at his heavenly face). He loved Alec when the Lightwood family welcomed him, not on the principle of who he was to the kingdom, but who he was to their son.

Magnus always loved him. But he could never tell him how much.

* * *

Childish laughter rang through the alleyway behind the castle wall. A wall that had been built to protect, now used to separate. A rope of spare, cloud-colored bedsheets that Magnus had convinced a maid to give him hung down from where it was wrapped around a torchhold. He let out another bark of nervous laughter as he clung to the rope with all his eight year old might.

“Don’t worry, Magnus! I’ll catch you!” The boy called up from below him, a giggle escaping him. If he hadn’t been scared of falling to his death, Magnus would have rationalized that Alec’s voice was, in all honesty, fairly close to his ears. But he _was_ scared of falling to his death, so he didn’t.

“This was stupid! I’m never letting you convince me to do anything ever again!” Magnus yelled out, his eyes clenched shut.

Below him, Alec chuckled. “Magnus, if you just let go, I’ll catch you. Promise!”

Magnus hummed with apprehension. “Promise?” His voice shook.

“I promise.” Alec sounded genuine, and Magnus trusted him. They counted down, and he let go.

“Oof!” He shouted, Alec’s arms wrapping around him tightly, securing him in his hold underneath his arms before settling him on the ground. He turned to his friend, only to stop. The sun glimmered off Alec’s dark, tousled hair, his smile gleamed brightly at him. 

To Magnus, the sun seemed to dim behind Alec’s smile, and the sparkle in his eyes shone brighter than the stars. But Magnus didn’t have the words for that yet.

So he laughed, and the always just-taller-than-him boy joined him, his large hands still resting on Magnus’ arms. And then they remembered their plan for the day, and took off running, Magnus in the lead and calling over his shoulder, “Come on, Alec!"

* * *

The Lightwoods, despite not being of royal blood, were a warm, welcoming family. The mother, a lovely, kind, but firm woman, was named Maryse. Her husband, with whom she had had three of her four children, was less so, and passed of a dreadful but non-contagious disease. (It wasn’t necessarily kind, but: no one would miss him).

Her children, in order of birth, were Alec (Alexander, but nobody called him that), Isabelle (known more commonly as Izzy), Jace (a boy Isabelle’s age, that the family had taken in as a young child), and the youngest -- younger than any of his siblings by at least seven years -- was Maxwell.

Maryse had watched as Magnus and Alec had become such close friends. Her late husband had been an advisor in war strategy to Magnus’ father, and -- in hoping Alec would follow in his footsteps -- took his son with him on visits to the King.

The prince had been an only child, his mother, the Queen, passing away in a tragic attack when he was of only five years old. She had been loving, and kind, and warm to Magnus, and the child missed her dearly -- so the new boy often around was a boost to the prince’s spirits. 

Lightwood Senior obviously had no complaints of his son befriending the prince, so a long living relationship between the two blossomed at the tender age of six.

Magnus’ father was often busy with his Kingly duties and didn’t have much time for his son. He had assigned servants to parent him in his absence, but they couldn’t keep up with the chaotic nature of the boy. (Especially not after Alec came into the picture).

So, accidentally, Maryse became a kind of mother to Magnus. She saw how intertwined he and Alec were, and knew that he wouldn’t be leaving their hearts any time soon.

When she was with child with Maxwell, Magnus marveled at the sight of her, brought her flowers often during those nine months, and swore to help her protect her family as much as he could. He was a sweet boy, and she knew he would be a worthy and just and _good_ king, when the time came.

When her husband passed, during the first months of her pregnancy, she was at a loss. He had been a rough man, difficult to get along with and hardly around as a father, but for a moment, she had no idea if things would be the same, alright. She was scared. But one morning, a few weeks later, she saw Alec and Magnus outside her window as she made breakfast, hauling a log across the grass, trying to imitate what they had seen Alec’s father do so many times. 

They didn’t realize that, on a hill, with a rounded log, gravity might come round to play.

The log, about the size of the two boys put together, raced down the hill, the young boys sprinting after it. But their short, nine year old legs weren’t quite quick enough. The log embedded itself in the fence of a newer neighbor they hadn’t yet spoken to, at the base of the hill. The two boys realized the predicament they had gotten themselves into, and were about to bolt, when a tall, dark skinned man walked around the corner of the house.

He paused, taking in the scene. Two ruffled young boys, with scraped-up hands and grass-greened feet, panic on their faces; and a log, lodged into his fence. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed the summer air, before he let out a laugh, full and beautiful.

The boys, however, thought they were in big trouble.

But, to their surprise, he motioned for them to join him as he walked toward where the log was, crashed into the fence, and started trying to pull it out.

“You boys ever dislodge a log before?” The man asked. His voice was warm, and his eyes were kind, and the rumbling of his chest when he spoke made the boys feel whole, somehow. He coached them on how to get leverage on the log, and lifted Magnus over the fence to get him to push it, with all his might.

The log came free. The boys -- and the man, now known to them as Lucian (or Luke) Greymark -- all whooped in victory, laughing and smiling and sweating under the hot sun. “Come on now, inside and wash up, before your mother starts worrying,” Luke said, leading them inside his house to a basin of water to wash their hands and faces in.

They were wiping their hands on a cloth, the boys reliving the excitement of chasing down the log and Magnus’ show of strength (that Luke had more than helped with), when suddenly, a young girl, of about six, with darker skin than Alec’s, but lighter than Luke’s, and long, curly, fiery red hair jumped out from behind a corner and onto Luke’s back. He huffed out a breath of laughter as the girl giggled lightly, her curls tumbling over his shoulders where her head rested.

“This, boys, is my daughter, Clary,” Luke introduced, gesturing with his head to the girl clinging to his back. 

“I’m Alec, we live up the hill,” Alec said, pointing through the kitchen window to the house, as correctly stated, up the hill.

“And I’m Magnus,” Magnus said gleefully, excited to meet more new people, “I live up in the castle!”

Clary gasped out in awe and Luke smiled. “Your parents work for the King?” He asked.

“No --” Magnus began, but before he could continue, they heard Maryse call out for them from the top of the hill. “Oh!” The boy yelped, “We need to tell her what happened, Alec!”

“Do you mind if we come with you?” Luke asked, hefting Clary higher on his back as the girl giggled.

Alec shouted a “Nope!” as he and Magnus raced outside, pausing at the base of the hill, before counting to three together and taking off, clambering up the hill as fast as their small bodies could carry them. 

Maryse was standing at the top of the hill, her hands on her hip and growing stomach, smiling as the boys raced up the hill. As soon as they reached her, they began regaling the Tale of the Log and the Man, and only then did she notice the tall man making his way up towards her. He had strangely animated, long, red hair that seemed to move even when his head didn’t. She noticed that he was rather beautiful. But, her face crossed to concern. She worried that her boys had done something that would warrant trouble. She’d known that it would happen at some point, but she’d hoped that it would be when they were older, more sound of mind, so she could properly tell them off with a mix of emotions instead of having to steel herself and act like the adult that she unfortunately was. She loved her children, but sometimes she missed the gift of irrationality and outbursts that good parents aren’t privileged to have.

So, she stood, pretending to listen to her boys in their excited talk, as she made herself more worried by the second and waited for the man to reach her. Her head whirled with scenarios in which Alec and Magnus had done something so insane that they risked getting locked up in the guard, or worse.

But, she shouldn’t have feared.

As the tall man reached her, he smiled and introduced himself as Lucian Greymark. “But call me Luke,” He said, and then kneeled down. For a moment her head went wild, confusion as to what he was doing mixed with the worry for her boys-- but he was just letting what she now recognized as a young girl -- and the source of the red hair -- off his back. “This is my daughter Clary.” He continued, motioning to the curly redhead, who waved excitedly.

“Nice to meet you both,” Maryse smiled, “I’m Maryse Lightwood, Alec’s mother.” She tried to smile as warmly as she could, but her worry for Magnus and Alec was slowly taking over. Luke seemed to notice.

“No need to fret,” He began, “There was just a little accident involving a log and my fence, but the kids helped me dislodge it and fix the fence where it was broken.” He smiled. “Then I just thought I should introduce myself to my new neighbors and the mother of at least one of the extraordinary young boys who helped me today.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and smiled, genuinely this time. “Thank you for being so forgiving.” She said, and both of them shared an eye crinkling smile, and she invited them inside for breakfast. He smiled bashfully, checked with Clary, and then accepted.

“If it would be of no hindrance to you, I think that’d be nice."

* * *

Magnus had no idea where Alec was taking him. It’d been a warm day, Max was a few weeks old, and Magnus had been smothering the baby with adoration when Alec suddenly burst inside through the door and went to grab Magnus’ hand before he noticed what he held in them.

“Put the baby down and come with me!” He whispered urgently, so as not to wake their sleeping mother. Izzy was out in the back, playing with Clary and Jace, so Magnus gave the baby to Luke and whispered to let him know that he was leaving.

As soon as he turned back to Alec, who was impatiently waiting by the door, he grabbed his hand and then they were running down the streets of the city.

Only, after a few minutes of laughter and running, Alec didn’t let up, even as their feet led them to the edge of the lower town and out, into the beginnings of the woods.

“Alec?” Magnus asked, starting to get worried as their pace slackened with the need to not trip over roots and brambles every five seconds. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I just found! You’ll love it!” Was all the reply he got from the dark haired boy as their fingers laced together in the close proximity.

Magnus didn’t know what the feeling in his gut was. He, of course, trusted Alec in this venture, that wasn’t the kind of feeling it was. It was like as soon as their hands folded together, his stomach twisted, in a good way. But he didn’t quite understand it yet.

They walked longer, giving Magnus time to take in the woods. Normally, from an outside view, it looked dark and scary. But from the inside, something about it felt homely. The sun sifted through the tree’s leaves, giving everything a glow of green and yellow. The warm brown of the tree’s branches and trunks made Magnus feel welcome, it echoed of the wooden beams scattered through the castle. It was a warm day, and under the green sunlight it felt comfortable. It seemed to have a magical quality to it, and Magnus knew that wherever Alec was taking him was going to be magnificent.

After twenty minutes of walking through the woods, laughing and talking, excited tones moving throughout the trees, said trees seemed to thin out, and Magnus felt his bare feet begin melting into the ground below him. He looked down and saw that he was no longer walking on dirt and underbrush, but sand. When he looked up again, to ask Alec where they were, he stopped, dead still.

In front of him was what he would forever know as their own private paradise. There was a small beach, and a lake that slid through the forest, to places unknown. The sun glistened on the soft ripples of the water, which, in and of itself, seemed to sparkle. Magnus stepped out into the sunlight, no longer shaded by the treeline, and felt at home here. He had no idea how or why, but he knew this would be the place that brought him the most peace.

“What do you think?”

Magnus looked up, remembering he wasn’t alone, and oh-so glad for it. He leapt at Alec, both of them tumbling to the ground in a heap, and Magnus’ arms wrapped so tightly around the taller boy.

“It’s perfect,” He whispered, “Thank you, Alec.”

Alec smiled widely, his smile as bright as the sun above them, and laughed, his laugh melodic to Magnus’ ears. But Magnus was too young to recognize that. The two boys rolled off each other and got up off the ground. Alec started shucking off his shirt, and for a moment Magnus was confused, before he realized there was water in front of them, on a hot day. So he began doing the same.

As soon as the boys were both shirtless, they looked at each other, before racing to get to the water first. (Alec reached it a moment before Magnus). They surfaced together gasping and laughing, their giggles light and boyish.

They paused for a second, drinking in the heat and joy of the moment.

Magnus splashed at Alec.

Alec tackled him.

They spent several hours at the lake that day, before the sun began to set. They were breathing hard, laying on the sand. After they got up, they had to rinse off in the water again, for the sand they’d been laying in stuck to their wet backs. So they rinsed, and then hauled their shirts back on, loose but clinging to their soaked bodies. And then they began the trek back to the city, laughing and smiling. In those days, never a day went by without the boys laughing together.

They got back to town. Maryse asked Magnus to stay for dinner. He did. When he finally left, it was dark. His father would be angry. But, for now, Magnus was happy.

* * *

Magnus knew he had duties. An obligation, he was told, to ride through the city, flanked by his guards (guards that had failed to keep him in their sight all of his life), and wave -- _wave --_ at his future people. Every year. He couldn’t stomach it. These were people he’d been around, _lived_ around. Sure, he went home at night to a walled off castle, sneaking back inside, hoping his forever-slacking guards wouldn’t catch him -- and _care_ \-- that night. He had a nice bed, and a servant, who really just set his bed in the morning. He was supposed to be doing more, dressing him, cleaning his room. He’d clean it every now and then, but the fact of the matter was that Magnus wasn’t around enough to really dirty it.

He had no family inside the castle. When his mother died, that was the end of it. His father was never close to him, always setting rules instead of being close and intimate with him. What Magnus would do to have the father he always wished.

He was twelve now, growing up. Forming his own opinions, his own bonds. To him, the closest thing besides his mother that he would ever have to a _real_ family, were the Lightwoods. Well, the Greymark-Lightwood family, as of tomorrow.

The wedding ceremony had been scheduled for the day of the parade, because they thought they would have more privacy than usual in the comfort of the edge of town. The preacher had the power to recognize the joining of two families, and Luke and Maryse had grown extremely close in the past few days. Clary often remarked that Max having red hair meant they were _meant_ to be siblings.

So, instead of participating in the dumb parade, whose meaning had been lost years ago, Magnus snuck out, just like he had been all the years before, and rushed down to the edge of the city, the best formal clothes he could muster -- while still acknowledging that the Greymark-Lightwoods were classed as lower than him (something he never really bought into) and would probably feel a little less-than if he wore his ceremonial robes (class difference was something he was slowly opening his eyes to) -- draping his body. 

The wind of his movement and the air whipped at his frame as he jumped over walls and crates and things, making his way through the maze that was his city. Art was scratched into the walls of the houses scattered in the streets, bins having been kicked over, but most of the street clutter had been moved from the actual road so the parade could be put together smoothly.

He jumped and stumbled and sprinted his way to the outskirts of town, then smoothed out his clothes and hair and walked the last five minutes to where it would be celebrated.

As he came upon the congregation of people, he noticed there were a few families he did not recognize. Of course there were the Lightwoods, and the Greymarks, and Maryse’s cousin the Penhallows, but there was a newer boy, a young boy with dark hair, with, presumably, his mother and sister. As he watched Clary bound up to them however, his mind placed them. Those were the Lewis’. Some of Luke and Clary’s friends.

He would’ve liked to take his shoes off, to feel the slightly damp grass beneath his toes… But that was improper, and inappropriate especially for this occasion. So he kept them on, and asked Izzy where he was supposed to sit.

“Next to Alec,” She said. Nevermind that Magnus hadn’t seen Alec yet, he went and picked a probable seat.

After a few minutes of waiting and sitting, Magnus got antsy. He started bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers against his knees. Someone coughed above him. He looked up.

His brain seemed to stop. He froze. His jaw might have dropped.

Alec was standing there. His hair more tamed than Magnus had ever seen it. He was obviously dressed up fancy, and Magnus wanted to take in his whole outfit, but his eyes were locked to his face. Alec’s eyebrows moved, asking him what was wrong in a laughing way. Magnus couldn’t speak. He took in Alec’s face, the slight flush to his cheeks, how his eyes crinkled, and his lips turned up as he smiled. How his ears turned back, only with the most genuine of grins. Magnus had no idea what to do, what to think, how to say… anything. He couldn’t… _think._

“Alexander…” He breathed. Alec’s face flushed, and he quickly sat down next to him. His profile was even nicer somehow, with the light from the sun contrasting against the shade of his face.

“You look nice,” Alec stated, avoiding his eyes.

“You too.” It was the most understated thing Magnus had ever said. Magnus couldn’t believe it. He didn’t… He didn’t know what this feeling was, but he felt it so strongly he felt like he was going to fall over. It felt like a rock had been placed in his chest. If he leaned forward too far he’d for sure fall over. His heart was beating faster… why? He didn’t know. He didn’t have time to, trying to get a glimpse of Alec’s actual outfit as he snapped out of his strange stupor, and the wedding started.

It was beautiful. People cried. Luke and Maryse’s vows were personal and stunning. Clary and Luke were now legally part of the Lightwood family. When the couple kissed under the arch Magnus, Alec, Clary, Izzy, and Jace had all crafted together, Izzy and Clary started sobbing. Jace looked like he had tears in his eyes, but he’d never say or admit to that. Unfortunately, Magnus only remembered these things after people had discussed the wedding with him. During the ceremony, his true focus was entirely on Alec.

Alec, who’d also almost cried. Alec, whose tears had threatened to spill over. Alec, whose wide smile didn’t help his tears go back into his eyes. Alec, who, as Luke and Maryse and slipped the rings on each other's hands, had turned slightly in his chair, and clutched at Magnus’ own hand. Tightly, and -- it felt -- with promise.

* * *

It was a year or so later. Magnus and Alec had finished practicing their swordsmanship, something Magnus was better at, having been taught at the earliest of ages and continuing practice through the years, but Alec was a fast learner. Magnus could still feel the pressure on his arm where the flat of Alec’s blade had thwapped against it.

But now it was time for Magnus to take Alec somewhere.

It wasn’t the lake Alec had found those years ago, the lake that they still frequented whenever they had the chance, no. This was… less secluded, but at the same time more.

Magnus laced his fingers through Alec’s as he lead him to the other side of town, where most if the local cattle and produce was farmed.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Alec asked as Magnus let his hand go to heave himself over the fence.

Magnus laughed as Alec followed. “When has that ever stopped us before?”

So that’s where they found themselves. Laying in the tall grass of a meadow. Staring up at the clouds. It was another warm day, though the seasons were getting colder. They wore their summer shirts, thinner material, and no shoes. It was comforting. Freeing.

 _Wonderful,_ Magnus thought, as Alec settled in the grass beside him. They were almost close enough for their sides to touch, so Magnus shuffled a little closer. 

They watched as the wind moved the clouds across the sky. They saw pigs, horses, swords. Once, Magnus identified a heart shaped cloud, which was too much.

He turned his head, to look at Alec’s profile. A profile he was so familiar with, so enchanted with.

Before he knew it, he was breathless. “Alexander…” He whispered. Alec’s face turned red, and not from the sun. He maneuvered himself to be laying on his side, looking back at Magnus. 

“You know,” He said, “You’re the only one who ever calls me Alexander.”

Magnus scoffed. “That’s not true, Jace called you it last week.”

“Yeah,” Alec nodded, “And I got mad at him. Which has always been my response when people call me it…” He reached out, moved a strand of grass from Magnus’ face. His fingers brushed Magnus’ cheek, and it took all he could to suppress a shiver. “Except with you.”

“Me?” Magnus asked.

“You.”

Magnus somehow became more breathless than he already was, breathless breathlessness. He was pretty sure he had stopped breathing entirely. How his body would go on without air, he didn’t know, but Alec had been evoking this kind of response from him for a while now, and Magnus had no intention of putting distance between them.

“When you call me that,” Alec began again, his hand still resting against Magnus’ cheek, “When you call me that, I think I might… Like it.”

Magnus’ eyebrows rose. “Oh, Alexander,” He choked out. He was turning over, his heart was racing, faster than it ever had. His hand went up to touch against Alec’s face. He was about to do something, but he had no idea what. He leaned closer, and it seemed Alec did too.

“Alec!” A cry sounded out from down the hill, and the boys both turned to look for the person who’d cried the name.

It was Isabelle. Alec sat up. So did Magnus. She was standing at the edge of the meadow, bracing herself against the fence. She looked a mess. Alec stood, and pulled Magnus up after him, looked at each other, and then they took off at a sprint.

As they closed in on Izzy, they could make out tear streaks under her eyes.

* * *

“Magnus, you are old enough to understand that you have responsibilities,” His father said. He wasn’t quite yelling, but he might as well have been. His stern, angry voice echoed in the throne room. “Duties, to the kingdom. To the people. How can they expect you to be a good king if you are not a good prince?”

Magnus, at fifteen, should have bit his tongue. But he didn’t. “I _am_ a good prince!” He shot back. “I’m down there, out in the city, with the _people_ I will one day be responsible for! I am m--”

His father cut him off. “You are waiving your duties to _frolic_ around the outskirts of the city with some…” His father shook his head, “Some peasant boy!”

Magnus seethed, his face gone red. He could take his father berating him, but slandering Alec…

“He is _not_ some _‘peasant boy’!”_ Magnus yelled, his voice raising, “And even if that’s what he’s classed as, so what?! I am out there, forming connections, relationships, _bonds_ with my future people -- something you have _never_ had! I--” Magnus stopped himself. _I am already a better king than you have ever been._

His father’s jaw clenched. Magnus could see it all the way from where he stood. He knew he should leave now, lest he continue and his father actually hurt him. _But leaving is a sign of surrender,_ A voice in his head spoke. _If you leave, that means he’s won._

So Magnus stayed.

He asked his servant to bring a bucket of cold water and a rag. He didn’t tell him it was to chill the mark across his face.

* * *

Magnus backed against the wall. His shield was held in front of him, his sword lodged in the ground a few yards away. He had a cut on his right cheek from a few hours earlier. Oh, and a sword was to his neck.

His back was drenched in sweat, and he could feel it as another bead crawled down his forehead, moving from his scalp to past the outside of his eye. Flames from the torches that scattered the area reflected in his iris.

But he wasn’t scared. Nor was he angry. Some, if they saw him in this state, might say tired. But no fear was reflected in those eyes.

Because the sword that was pressed to his throat moved away. Thunked as it hit the dirt. A hand gripped the shoulder of his shirt. His tongue darted out to wet his sweat steamed lip. His opponent’s other hand batted away his shield, and he let them. The same hand moved, and rested on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat, which was racing (Not just because of the fight). His opponents face drew closer to his, and closer still, closer, closer. And then it was past his face, their mouth directly beside his ear.

“I win.” They whispered, and Magnus shivered, grateful that he was wearing thicker clothes and some armor so it was more difficult to detect. But he didn’t know how much harder, seeing as when his adversary leaned back they had a terrible, awful grin on their face. No, it wasn’t an angry heat in Magnus’ eyes.

His heart beat against his chest, as if someone was hammering through his ribs, trying to get out. One of these days he would wake up and have a gaping hole in his chest, his heart nowhere to be found. 

Well. 

He might know where to find it.

Alec, forever taller than him, ruffled a hand through Magnus’ sweat soaked hair, and pulled off his shirt of chainmail. The firelight lit up his face, and silhouetted him perfectly as he walked toward the table to lay his training things.

Magnus took a deep breath, steadied himself, and followed.

“You know, my father will be horrified to find out that his _prince_ lost to a commoner,” Magnus joked. The full laugh that leapt from Alec’s throat gave life and meaning to Magnus’ being.

“I bet he’ll _adore_ that a _commoner_ is better at sword fighting than the future king!” Alec chuckled. Between them, class had no meaning. Magnus tried to be conscious of his privilege, and never treat Alec as less than, and more than that, they never acknowledged Magnus’ heritage other than with spite in their lungs. When Alec had learned what the King had frequently done to Magnus… he may have threatened some treasonous things. 

Both young men often dreamed of leaving the city, the kingdom. Going off together, just the two of them. Living in the woods, where only Alec’s family knew their whereabouts. Nothing coming in between them, not class, not duties…

But alas.

Alec unwrapped his hands and watched Magnus struggle with his for a moment before reaching out, motioning with his own for Magnus’ to let him help. When Magnus held out his hands, he looked away. Alec couldn’t see it in this light, but the red tint to Magnus’ face wasn’t from the exertion.

So Alec unwrapped Magnus’ hands, and helped him out of his armour when he got it all tangled. For the past few weeks, the king had been adding on duties to Magnus’ daily schedule, so the young men hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time together. A visiting king and his daughter had visited, and Magnus had been expected to court her. But, they left, and Magnus subtly assured Alec that he’d had no interest in courting someone at the time.

(What Alec didn’t know, is what Magnus had told the princess, before posing a proposal for her to reject. They did this so the princess would have a higher standing, having rejected a prince such as Magnus, and a better choice for suitors she actually wanted. But that story is for another time.)

So, the prince and the weaponsmith’s apprentice were relishing the time they had together, even if it’s hot and sweaty. ( _“Especially if it’s hot and sweaty,”_ Magnus would joke. Alec only got red and rolled his eyes.)

When they left the walls of the training area, they finally realized that it was past ten at night. The moon was high already, and they could pick out some constellations that Alec had taught Magnus about years prior. The city didn’t have a _curfew_ per se, but everyone appreciated it if people were nearer to their own homes by ten.

Alec looked at Magnus wearily. He didn’t want to make the trek back to the lower towns by his self, but he didn’t want to drag Magnus, the _prince_ , along with him, only for him to then have to go back to the palace alone. Magnus sighed softly, before a light lit up in his eyes.

“Sleep with me!” He suggested. Alec face paled, but at the same time grew a deep red. Magnus continued, “I mean in my bed! It’s big enough for us to share, and it’s too late for you to go home.” He cocked his head at Alec, putting on a pleading face, “Please, Alexander? We’ve done it before.”

Alec took a breath and then rolled his eyes in assent. Magnus clapped a hand on his back and tried to quiet the whoop of victory. Alec may have bested him in combat, but he never stood a chance against Magnus in convincing people to do what he wanted. 

It wasn’t until they laid in bed that night, after bathing, that Magnus realized this was _not_ a victory on his part. Not a victory at all. Nope, not victorious in any way. Instead of gleeful and annoyingly proud, he was stock still, lying on his back like a man possessed. He wasn’t… uncomfortable, because it was as he had said earlier, they’d done this plenty of times.

It was just never in Magnus’ room. Magnus’ bed. Where he dressed, bathed, was his most vulnerable. Nothing to separate their chests. It was something Magnus had never done before.

Alec lay next to him, sweaty shirt discarded, also on his back, but more natural. His arms were flailed above his head and he had one knee cocked out. Magnus lay stock till. Alec began snoring, softly, and the fact that Magnus’ heart seemed to melt just a little more with every sound should have been a warning sign.

At some point, after tossing and turning for an hour, Alec, still asleep, rolled over, and wrapped his arm around Magnus’ waist. The breath caught in Magnus’ throat.

He had no idea how he slept.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when Magnus awoke first, and realized he was wrapped around Alec’s body. Alec was still softly snoring, which meant Magnus had woken up at some truly ungodly hour. Magnus tried to move himself up, he was curled around Alec’s middle, using his chest as a pillow, but only managed to press himself closer to Alec’s body. He had his arms locked, his hands pressed on either side of Alec’s ribs, and he held himself there. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but he didn’t care. His focus had been pulled to one place only.

Alec’s sleeping face.

It had been a couple months, maybe more, since Magnus had last shared a bed with Alec. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he saw his peaceful, slumbering face. 

He was mesmerized.

The soft sunlight draped across Alec’s features. His cheekbones, his strong nose. It was like the gods had selected several rays that were dedicated only to making Alec look ethereal. Angelic. Godly.

Magnus was completely taken by it. By him.

 _Oh,_ he realized, _This is how I was supposed to feel. This was how I was supposed to look at the princess._

_With love._

**Author's Note:**

> please drop a comment and a kudos if you feel so inclined! i can also be found at @gay-halforc on tumblr!


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